“Marry him, and you’ll find out exactly how wicked I can be.” He fixed her with a menacing glare, then pushed past and slammed out into the passageway, taking the candle with him.
Darkness descended over her, both real and metaphorical. Not only had she ruined herself, but she’d put Rushbourne at risk of ruin too. That had never been her intention.
How could a vow to teach an arrogant aristocrat a salutary lesson have gone so terribly, horribly wrong?
Chapter 16
Next morning, Oliver lurked in the breakfast room as long as he could without causing comment, then stalked outside and made several circuits of Hedenham House. Eventually, an icy November rain drove him in again, so he made a close inspection of the ancestral portraits lining the staircase, all in hopes of catching a glimpse of Athene.
None of the duke’s guests behaved oddly towards him, or shot him knowing looks when he hailed them. It would appear news of last night’s scandalous liaison had, as yet, gone no further than Kat and Harry.
Where was Harry? He was embarrassed to have been caught in so compromising a situation by his younger brother, but he was also stung by the lack of understanding and gratitude shown by the young man in conspiring against him. He’d done his best to win back Harry’s IOUs from the card players who’d fleeced him, inadvertently acquiring a reputation as an inveterate gambler. He’d put himself out by tracking down the foolish investments the boy had made and buying up his worthless shares, and he’d pulled strings, threatened and outmanoeuvred the money-lenders and forced them all to drop their pursuit of Harry.
Frankly, he was exhausted by it all. His hopes that Harry would soon mature and cease his ramshackle behaviour were fading. Especially now his brother had entered into such a hideous conspiracy to catch him out and shame him.
Harry was probably keeping out of his way deliberately. But he wasn’t going to get away with it.
“An intriguing use of perspective, is it not?” a female voice murmured at his side.
“Miss Dunstable. Forgive me. I was deep in thought.”
“Thinking about how on earth such a massive canvas is transported from Holland to Suffolk without mishap? I pity the men who had to mount the thing on the wall. I also don’t envy those tasked with dusting its ornate frame. A little too much for my tastes.”
“Indeed. But in a house of this size, they are used to objects being on a grand scale. Or so I surmise. I trust Miss Hartville is well this morning?”
Miss Dunstable tapped him playfully on the elbow. “How formal you are, considering your state of undress last night. I can’t help but feel it helped me get to know you quite…intimately.”
The teasing tone of her voice proved she wasn’t shocked by what had occurred. Partly, this relieved him. But it bothered him that Athene was under the influence of a woman with so lax an attitude towards propriety.
“I apologise for what you witnessed yesterday.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. I was considerably impressed by the sight.”
He swallowed. How much of himself had he revealed last night, in his efforts to conceal Athene?
He kept his voice level, business-like. “I didn’t have as long as I would have liked to talk with Athene. But she was tired and confused. I hoped we might have a more productive conversation today.”
“She’s currently nowhere to be found, so I suggest your best option would be to come into our chamber and wait. You and I can discuss…future plans, perhaps. Assuming you’ve finished scowling at this painting?”
He gave Athene’s guardian a sideways glance. She was smiling flirtatiously at him—if she’d had a fan, she’d be tapping him on the chest with it and saying “la!” a lot.
All the same, accompanying her to her room and starting marriage negotiations would give him some distraction and stop him fretting.
He stood aside and gestured her to proceed him. “Shall we?”
The room, when he reached it, was much smaller than he remembered. The bed was very visible from the seating area by the window, and much strewn with white feminine undergarments. His face went hot as he pictured Athene lying there, her hair a chestnut halo around her head, her milk-white arms lifting to pull him into her embrace…
“You’re looking a little hot, Viscount. Shall I open the window? Or relieve you of your jacket?”
He was about to opt for the window, but Miss Dunstable didn’t give him the choice. She tugged at his shoulders from behind, stripped off his jacket with a suspiciously practised touch, and threw it onto the bed.
“That’s better. What a splendid waistcoat, sir. Is the embroidery English or French?”
She ran a hand down his chest, but he could tell from the pressure it was him she was feeling, not the needlework.
“Kat! Rushbourne!”
He spun around to see Athene standing in the doorway, her face pale as ivory.
“Athene. I’ve been waiting—”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”
“Athene, don’t be a fool.” Miss Dunstable removed her hand from his chest. “I’m only putting him to the test for you.”
But Athene had gone, slamming the door behind her.
“What have you done?” he growled at Miss Dunstable. “Do you seriously think I’d propose to one woman, then immediately toy with another? Don’t you want your ward to be happy?” He pushed past her and out into the corridor, just in time to see Athene fleeing through a small doorway to one side of the landing.
“Athene, wait!” He didn’t care who heard him, or what they thought. He had to speak to her immediately and give her the reassurances she needed. A hundred thousand curses upon the dratted Dunstable woman.
Athene’s footsteps pattered ahead of him on the staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, he caught up with her before she could vanish into any of the attic rooms.
As soon as he caught her, he held her firmly against him. “No, don’t wriggle away. I won’t let you, do you hear? I know what you think you saw a moment ago, but the blame was all your guardian’s, not mine. I’d only just realised what she was up to, and was about to make my excuses when you came in. I can’t say I’m happy she has control of you and your finances—I begin to think she’s not at all respectable.”
Athene raised her head and looked at him. He met her questioning gaze directly—he had nothing to hide. He didn’t want there to be any dispute between himself and his future wife.
It was such a relief to have her in his arms again. His heart warmed as he looked into her eyes, which reflected the beauty of her soul. Everything about her was utterly enchanting. The fact he’d unleashed the physical passion of which he’d always suspected her capable, put the seal on his conviction she was the only woman he could ever marry.
“Is that true? You think she was trying to seduce you?” There was moisture flickering on the edge of her lower lashes. Was she upset because she thought she’d caught him cheating? Dare he hope she cared for him enough to feel jealous?
He nodded. “Of course, my darling. There’s no one but you. There’s never been anyone but you. It has taken me years to understand my feelings, to put them into words. And now I have you, I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
She blinked away the tears. “You are so much better than I believed. Forgive my stupid, stubborn blindness. But I can’t marry you, Oliver. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“What?” He held her close, disbelieving. “You have to marry me. After last night, what choice do you have?”
“Don’t you see, we’d both be trapped by what we did. Sharing love isn’t something which should carry a life sentence.”
“Marriage is not at all the same thing as imprisonment.” He stroked a hand down her back to soothe her. “And I’m more than willing to prove it.”
“I’m afraid I would lower your position in society. Who am I but a penniless, orphaned nobody? Not fit to be a countess. Your Papa would never approve.”
A muscle tightened in
his jaw. Where had all these doubts come from? Miss Dunstable, perchance, because she wanted him for herself? Now she’d caught a glimpse of his…assets?
“Let me deal with Papa.” He kept his voice firm. “There is nothing to fear. I don’t anticipate any difficulties, but if there are, we’ll face them together. You’re a strong woman, Athene, I know you are. I’m sorry I unsettled you so much yesterday. I should have curbed my lusts. But having been in thrall to you so much of my life, I’d have asked for your hand sooner or later, even though I thought rejection was inevitable.”
She lowered her head, so he couldn’t see her expression. “Harry will be upset. You know he liked me when we were young. I know he’s not jealous now because he told me so. But if we marry and have children, he loses his inheritance.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about that, sweeting. It’ll do him good to concentrate on finding a career for himself. He’s wasted too much time already.”
“Could you not make him your heir?”
His head went back in surprise. “Why would I do so? Anyway, such a thing would be up to the earl, not me.”
“But it could be done?”
“Yes, but Papa would have no reason to. And I’d do my utmost to dissuade him if I thought he was about to disinherit any future heirs of ours.”
“You absolutely refuse to make Harry your heir?” He could hear a note of desperation in her voice. Was she testing him somehow?
“Of course, I refuse. I want us to have children. I want a family—and I was hoping you’d want the same.”
He held her away from him and made a study of her face. Something was troubling her deeply. He’d always been able to recognise when a storm was brewing in those blue eyes. But this was not a storm of passion or anger. This was generated by fear.
“Athene, what are you not saying?”
She bit her lip. “I can’t tell you. You’ll have to trust me.”
“Wholeheartedly. But I’d like to know, all the same.”
“I’m sorry.” She wrenched free of his hands. “I can’t marry you, and that is the end of it.”
“What?” He watched in shock as she ran along the passageway and disappeared down the stairs. His heart screamed at him to pursue her, but his mind told him to remain calm. Something was amiss, and only a cool head could solve the problem.
He walked to the far end of the passage and threw up the bottom part of the sash window, taking in great gulps of the cold, damp air. Think. He needed to think.
The rain swept in at him, but he gave it no heed. Soon his hair and the front of his waistcoat were soaked with it. Damn—he’d left his jacket in Athene’s room. He wouldn’t put it past the Dunstable woman to try and blackmail him with it.
Blackmail? Could blackmail be at the root of Athene’s volte-face?
He thumped the window back down again and strode towards the servants’ staircase.
Harry. It must have something to do with Harry. He was the one most upset by the liaison with Athene. He’d hunt him down and shake the truth out of him if he had to.
In the following hour, a thorough search of the house failed to produce the younger Paviland. Out of options, Oliver knocked on Athene’s door. Miss Dunstable answered it, told him she hadn’t seen Harry since the previous night, and thrust his jacket into his arms. He could see Athene beyond her shoulder, motionless in front of the window, and staring at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face still glistening from the tracks of her tears.
It took all his determination not to brush Miss Dunstable aside, take Athene in his arms and do whatever was necessary to bring the roses back into her cheeks. But he knew how stubborn she could be. She might never tell him what was going on, but he’d make damn certain Harry did. So, he merely nodded and left the women to their own devices.
Unfortunately, an extensive investigation of the grounds, gardens and outbuildings produced no sign of his younger brother. Exasperated, he sought out the head groom and asked if anyone had gone out riding—though it was unlikely, considering the miserable weather.
“Indeed, my Lord. One gentleman did take a horse. He had full saddlebags, so I assumed he was leaving the house party.”
“Do you know the name of the gentleman?”
“He didn’t give it, but he bore a passing resemblance to yourself, sir, aside from his colouring. A relative of yours, perhaps?”
Oliver kept his expression neutral, though he was seething inside. Harry had run off. Coward.
“Thank you. I suspect that was my brother, Henry Paviland. Good day.”
Where would Harry have gone? Back to his apartments in Town? Or would he return to Deerfold Park to pour his vitriol into the earl’s ear?
There was only one thing to do. He must saddle up and head back there himself to inform Papa of his impending marriage. Who knew what damage Harry might do to his plans if he reached the earl first?
Chapter 17
On a dark day at the end of November, Athene sat by the window, trying to make the best of the light so she could get on with her sewing. Kat was out, as she often was these days, with Mr Foulsham, a gentleman she’d met at the Duke of Burlington’s house party. Foulsham, it turned out, had a grand townhouse in Wigmore Place, only half an hour’s walk from Kat’s modest lodgings on the eastern side of London.
Athene sighed. Her doom was approaching. Soon Kat would be the man’s mistress, soon her own inheritance would run out, soon she would be an encumbrance and would have to make her way in the world alone.
Hence the embroidery. She’d stumbled upon an embroiderer’s workshop on one of her perambulations around town, and decided to offer her skills. The proprietor wasn’t averse to the idea of giving her piecework—she would get uncut cloth with waistcoat or dress patterns drawn onto it, and do the required embroidery before the pieces went back to the workshop to be cut out and assembled.
She was currently working on a kind of ‘prentice piece, a baby’s whitework christening gown. If this was satisfactory, more work would be put her way. Such employment would never make her a fortune but would enable her to afford board and lodging when she became persona non grata in Kat’s home.
The light was so bad today, a headache was developing. She’d had to move away from the fire to maximise the light from the window, and her fingers were red with cold, making it hard to ply her needle. It was a miserable business altogether, but she was determined to soldier on. What choice did she have?
She blinked away a tear. Rushbourne and Harry had both vanished from Hedenham House on the same day, and neither she nor Kat had had word from either of them. Despite her refusal of him, deep down, she’d never expected Rushbourne to give up so easily. She’d hoped he wouldn’t, and the disappointment was agony.
Had her initial assessment of him been correct? Did he wear his heart on his sleeve? If so, it was fortunate indeed her courses had come and gone as usual, for the idea of raising a fatherless babe at the whim of the Parish was terrifying. Yet, having to take a child to the foundling hospital because she couldn’t afford to keep it, was unthinkable.
It was all her fault. She should never have been convinced by Harry’s blackmail. He was a boy of seventeen—what did he know of the world? Rushbourne would have pulled him to pieces like a dandelion clock and scattered his threats to the Four Winds. She should have listened to Rushbourne.
Or should she? It was all so confusing. Now she didn’t know if what had happened between them meant anything at all, and the uncertainty was tearing her apart.
The clatter of the doorknocker startled her so much, she pricked her finger. Curse it! She couldn’t afford to get blood on the whitework.
Frowning and sucking on her finger, she set her work down and marched into the hallway. They’d had to let Hester, their maid, go, so now she and Kat had to answer their own front door—as well as do all the laundry, cleaning and cooking. It made for a busy—and tiring—existence.
As she undid the bolt, Athene praye
d fervently it wasn’t one of their creditors come to call, or the landlord arrived to demand his overdue rent.
It was Rushbourne.
She couldn’t breathe. Something clamped around her heart, and her body refused to listen to any of her commands. He’d think her an imbecile, standing there open mouthed and speechless, but all she wanted to do was stare at him, taking in the windswept disarray of his thick brown hair, the sumptuous glory of his full mouth, the grey intensity of his gaze.
“Oliver!” Making a desperate attempt to collect her scattered wits, she moved aside.
Doffing his hat, he stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him.
She prayed her eyes didn’t look too red. “Shall I take your coat?” Her voice was breathy, hesitant.
He’d already divested himself of his multi-caped greatcoat, hat, and gloves. The polished Hessian boots that clung to his calves showed not a speck of London mud, so she assumed he must have arrived in a carriage.
All this time, a full month almost, she’d been anticipating this moment. And now here he was, standing in her hallway, all polite and distant, yet so familiar. He had once been part of her—she’d never managed to get rid of the image of his magnificent body spread-eagled on the bed, naked and aroused.
Now, of course, he was back to being a well-dressed, broad-shouldered, commanding nobleman, politely bowing to a lady. Such ridiculous formality, when they had both seen each other naked, when they had both explored each other’s most private and delightful places.
Then she realised what she saw in his stance wasn’t formality. It was uncertainty. He was as tongue-tied as she, gazing at her anxiously like a mischievous dog awaiting its owner’s reaction to some misdemeanour.
“I…I trust you are well?” he enquired.
“I am, sir. I hope you are too.” How banal that sounded.
“Is Miss Dunstable at home?”
“She is not. Did you wish to speak with her?” Oh, Lord, why was she hiding behind pleasantries? She, too, was anxious—so much so, she was shaking. She thrust her hands behind her back lest he see.
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